


O Holy Night

by fleurofthecourt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bobby Singer is Dean and Sam Winchester's Father, Christmas Eve Mass, Christmas Fluff, Churches & Cathedrals, Fluff, Kind of a First Date, Librarian Castiel, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mutual Pining, Nervous Dean, Roman Catholicism, Sick Castiel, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurofthecourt/pseuds/fleurofthecourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's not too happy about changing traditions but maybe he should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean likes Sarah. He does. He couldn’t be happier that his baby brother’s happily engaged, and he’s about to get an awesome new sister in-law. It’s just, well, she’s kind of ruining Christmas. 

Okay, maybe, that’s not fair. 

But Dean holds the Christmas Eve traditions that he, Sam, and Bobby have come up with over the years as completely sacred. 

And right now, he should be elbow deep in flour and dough, listening to the best of AC/DC on mixtape as Ellen, Jo, and Sam bicker over poker chips and eggnog in the next room. He should be rolling his eyes as Bobby brings back Galas instead of Granny Smiths, on his last minute run to the store, for the sixth year in a row. He should be considering getting the cooler out of the garage for the six pack they’re going to set out for “Santa” -- that they will drink as they lounge around the tree in their robes and boxers tomorrow morning. 

Instead, because Sarah’s a respectable church-going Catholic, who gave him and Bobby some serious puppy eyes over Christmas Eve mass, he’s shuffling awkwardly to the end of the last empty pew at Saint Christopher’s, trying not to breath in the too heavy incense or Bobby’s too strong cologne, wondering if he’s suppose to pray to the big guy before the show starts. 

He judges, by the way people are starting to line up against the walls, that he wasn’t the only one that more or less got dragged here, and decides Sarah was actually smart for making them get there nearly an hour early. It stops him from having to sit or stand next to the almighty pious and be judged for not knowing the words to the _Our Father_. 

He’s got a pretty good seat -- one with a good exit strategy -- in the back row next to the wall. He’s guessing that being preached to when he could be home tasting the fruits of his labor isn’t going to make him want to stick this out any longer than he has to. 

What he doesn't account for, though, is the possibility of Castiel Novak, the local librarian, who has helped him find many an old, obscure car manual, appearing with cheeks flushed from the cold and hair damp from the snow, raising his gravel deep voice over the choir’s warm up of _The First Noel_ to ask sheepishly if there’s any room left at the inn. 

Once Cas confirms that it’s just him, too dumbfounded to do anything else, Dean scoots over, leaving the tiny amount of room left for Cas, ignoring the twin looks that Bobby and Sam are shooting him, because they know that he has a Chrysler Building sized crush on the guy. And they’re in a church. 

They wish each other _Merry Christmas_ as Cas sidles too close -- not that he really has a choice -- and places his coat over the bench, letting its sleeves dangle over Dean’s. He doesn’t quite smile, because Cas never quite does, as he straightens. "It’s good to see you, Dean. I have missed you at the library." 

“Been a while, huh?” Dean asks as though he’s not fully aware of that -- that he stopped going because Cas changed shifts and the new night guy, Garth, didn’t know a VIN number from a jungle vine. Not that Cas had either, before Dean had started asking. But Dean doesn’t want Garth going to the trouble. Garth isn’t Cas. 

Garth doesn’t make Dean want to test just how open and accepting Sarah’s longtime place of worship really is. 

“I haven’t had a chance to show you the new 60s car magazine I ordered in. I think you’ll like it,” Cas says. “You could consider it your Christmas present...from the community.” 

“Yeah, sure thing,” Dean says breathily, desperately wishing Cas’ knee wasn’t brushing against his thigh. “‘But I don’t have anything for you... from the community.”

“But you do... you just prevented me from standing against the wall for an hour after walking four miles in the snow,” Cas says. “I am quite content with that.” 

“Four miles? Dude, it’s barely above zero!” Dean says. “Can you even feel your toes?” 

“I was not missing Christmas Eve mass because my car chose an inconvenient time to break down,” Cas says before glancing down at his boots. “And no, not really. They are rather numb."

“Okay. Giving you a ride home. No arguing,” Dean says. “Not gonna let you turn into a popsicle.” 

“It’s Christmas Eve, Dean,” Cas says. “I’m sure your family would like you to be with them.” 

At that, Bobby leans over Dean and puts his hand out. Cas takes it hesitantly as Bobby introduces himself, “Bobby Singer. Dean’s Dad in all the ways that matter. Nice to meet you, Castiel. I've heard a lot about you from this one." 

“You have?” Cas asks, his gaze drifting back to Dean, who is rubbing at the back of his neck as his cheeks flush. Bobby nods nonchalantly. 

“Now Dean says he’s giving you a ride, he’s giving you a ride. It’s Christmas.” 

Seemingly satisfied with that, Bobby turns back to Sam and Sarah. 

“You’ve told your family about me?” Cas asks, his eyes wide with surprised awe. 

Dean manages an eloquent ‘uh’ before the sound of the opening hymn being played on the organ drowns out anything he might have said. So he just shrugs and smiles sheepishly before very deliberately facing the altar. 

When they’re a verse into _Away in a Manger_ , Cas whispers _share with me_ and thrusts half his hymnal into Dean’s hands. Their hands brush on the pages as Cas traces his fingers across the lyrics. 

When the priest asks for the congregation to be seated, they smile tentatively at each other before scooting back onto the bench. 

Dean thinks that they’ll have to put the book back and lose the additional closeness, but it turns out that the readings from the Bible are in the book too. They lean over it together until the priest gets to the sermon, during which Cas wordlessly takes Dean’s hand in his own and Dean realizes he and Cas might kind of accidentally be on a date. In a church. On Christmas Eve. 

He doesn’t really register what’s going on for most of the rest of the ceremony, since most of his headspace is absorbed by Cas’ hand tugging him between the bench and the kneeler, quite frankly, an unreasonable amount of times. 

He does almost get jolted back to reality when everyone is shaking everyone else’s hands, telling them _Peace be with you_ and _Merry Christmas_ \-- since his focus shifts, if temporarily, away from Cas. But, after they’ve shook hands with everyone in the vicinity, Cas leans in and pecks softly at his cheek. 

“That...uh...can, can we do that, here?” Dean stutters as Cas pulls him back to the kneeler. 

“I don’t see why not,” Cas says as he glances slowly from side to side. “It was merely a show of affection, one that I've seen many couples do just now, including your brother and his fiancee, and I don’t see anyone objecting.” 

“Well, I’ll, uh...” Dean ducks his head, because, really, they are in a church. “I’ll have to show you some more affection, when we get to the car.” 

“I look forward to it,” Cas says before bowing his head over his hands. “I look forward to it very much.” 

Dean thinks he’ll have to forgive Sarah for dragging him here. Maybe even thank her.


	2. Chapter 2

_Three years later_

Dean loves Cas. He does. And he knows that Cas isn’t _trying_ to throw a wrench in the works. It’s just, well, he’s kind of ruining his proposal. 

And, yeah, he _knows_ that that’s not fair. It’s not like Cas came down with the flu on purpose or anything. 

But right now, he should be halfway to Bobby’s anxiously rehearsing the speech that goes with the silver band that’s wedged deep in his right pocket -- the one that, until a few hours earlier, he’d been planning on subtly sticking into a hymnal during communion. 

Instead, he’s literally dragging Cas upstairs to shove his ass back into bed, because the dumbass is still planning to go to Christmas Eve mass, despite his 102 degree fever. “Not happening, buddy. No way in hell.” 

Cas sniffles into the sleeve of his suit, before insisting, raspily, “The service is only an hour long and...” he winces as as a coughing fit interrupts him, “ _And_ I’ve never missed Christmas mass before.” 

Dean shakes his head as he tugs Cas’ already sweat soaked suit jacket off. He holds it up for inspection. “You think you’re up for that? Really? Dude, come on, once we’re packed in there like sardines, you’d boil. Not to mention incense? Not so great for the breathing.” 

Cas eases himself onto the edge of the bed and watches, with glassy eyes and unwarranted exasperation, as Dean rifles through their dresser for sweatpants. “I believe I would survive.”

“Yeah, well, let’s not leave it to chance, alright?” Dean clasps his shoulder before dropping clean clothes in his lap. “Now hit the hay.” 

Cas lists against the pillows and his clothes tumble to the floor. He suggests, almost petulantly, “I could walk.” 

Dean cocks an eyebrow. “You're kidding, right? Dude, it's _church._ Your fever goes down, we can go tomorrow.” 

Cas huffs into the sheets. 

Dean rolls his eyes before tugging him upright and undoing the buttons on his dress shirt. 

Three buttons in, Cas’ hand comes to rest on Dean’s forearm. He fights against the gravel that’s clearly saturating his throat to grate out, “But you...you wanted it to be tonight.” 

Dean freezes, his fingers still caught in the fabric. “What?” 

Cas blearily works to meet Dean’s gaze. “Dean, I _know_. I know what you were planning, and I know you wanted it to be tonight.” 

Dean’s thought processes come to a grinding halt. 

Cas wasn’t supposed to know. 

It was supposed to be a surprise. 

“I do as well. I enjoy our history with the date.” 

Dean’s hand absently trails down to the ring and his fingers ghost over the outline in his pocket. He tries to clear his head. He tries to feel like he still has control over the situation. He doesn’t. Maybe he never did. “Wasn’t the plan, Cas.” 

“Influenza wasn’t part of your plan either.” 

Dean snorts at that, because, “yeah, uh, definitely not.” 

His cheeks flush pink as he reaches down to pick Cas’ clothes back off the floor. “But, uh, but... guess knowing you’re gonna say ‘yes’ takes some of the pressure off.” 

“Oh, now, I didn’t say that,” Cas frigging smirks at him as Dean looks up to see him attempting to redo the buttons he had just undone. 

Dean thinks the subsequent coughing fit kind of serves him right. 

“You’re an ass,” Dean says, without any real heat, as he swats Cas’ hand away from his shirt. “Now seriously, get in 40 winks and we’ll...I don’t know. We’ll figure something out.” 

Cas nods, his eyelids drooping as he slides forward off the edge of the mattress. Dean catches him by the shoulder and drags him on top of the covers before pulling them back. “Buddy, hate to break it to ya, but don’t think you’d make it back downstairs, let alone to church.” 

“I’m sure that I could,” Cas sputters as Dean pulls his legs under the covers. 

Dean snorts as Cas fights to keep his eyes open before momentarily resting a hand against his cheek. “Yeah, yeah. Sure you could.” 

He's snoring in a way that makes Dean wince by the time he’s flipping the light switch. 

XXX 

Cas is wobbly on his feet when Dean ushers him into the pew for the midnight service several hours later. 

His fever’s down to 99.5, and, for another fifteen minutes, at least, it’s still technically Christmas Eve. 

It's not exactly what he was aiming for, but it’ll have to do. 

“You sure you’re up to this?” Dean asks over the organ’s low hum of _O Come O Come Emmanuel_ as Cas’ lists against the blanket he's draped over the bench, incredibly grateful that the later service is far less crowded than the earlier ones. 

Cas sniffles slightly before glowering at him. “I’m not certain I’ll survive you asking me that again, but I’m certain I’ll survive mass.” 

“That’s not...that’s, uh...” Dean’s fingers twist anxiously at the ring as he fumbles to get it out of his pocket. “Jesus, you’re surly when you’re sick.” 

“Oh,” Cas softens completely as he rests his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You didn’t mean for mass.”

“No, uh...” Dean grabs a hymnal and haphazardly rifles through the pages before resting the ring between the third and fourth verse of _O Holy Night_ before glancing back at Cas. 

“I'm up for this,” Cas says, his eyes locked on Dean’s with unwavering sincerity. 

Dean nods, takes a deep steadying breath, and pushes the hymnal at Cas. 

He swallows and swallows again and tries to force words that he knows he practiced out. 

Nothing comes. 

He tries again. 

And still nothing comes. 

He gestures maniacally at the ring, feeling like a complete idiot. “Will you, uh, will you...”

Cas smiles at him empathetically as he slides the ring on. “Of course, Dean.” 

At that, he finally comes to his senses. “Right, uh, good. So guess I should actually, uh, pop the question, huh?” 

“I believe it’s really already ‘popped,’ and you know my answer,” Cas says.“I love you, and I would love to share my life with you.” 

Dean wraps his arm around Cas’ shoulders and leans into him. “Yeah, and, you know, same goes for me.”

“I know,” Cas says as he leans his head into Dean’s shoulder, breathing raspily. 

He's sound asleep when Dean fishes his phone out of his pocket. 

He pushes Cas back against the bench and drapes the blanket over his back. He smiles warmly at him before taking a picture of him sleeping, making certain that his now ring clad finger, resting above the blue flannel, is prominently displayed before sending a text to Sam, Bobby, and Sarah. 

“Me and Rip Van Winkle will see you guys and the Munchkin in the morning :)

And Sarah? Thanks for dragging me to church.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> [catalogercas](http://catalogercas.tumblr.com)


End file.
